Dreams May Come True
by Almadynis Rayne
Summary: Nova has dreamed about the Doctor all her life. Until one night she doesn't wake up and finds that her dream world is her new reality. Rated T for safety.
1. Chapter 1

**Dreams May Come True**

Almadynis

Disclaimer: If you recognize it, it isn't mine.

Nova smiled to herself victoriously as she put the last finishing touches on her new book and sent it off to her publisher. Who would have thought that her dreams could make money? Not much money, admittedly, but enough to get her through a college degree without resorting to student loans.

She stretched as she got out of her office chair, shut off the lights, and began to make her way to her warm bed that just waited for her. Nova smiled to herself in satisfaction at her accomplishment; getting the manuscript delivered over a week earlier than expected instead of a month late, which was a new and decidedly happy feeling. Wiggling into her favorite light blue, long, winter nightgown, she slid under the covers and reached out to click off her bedside lamp, wondering what her dreams had in store for her tonight.

She became aware that most people dreamed about different things at night in high school when she made her first friend. A conversation about dreams initiated a frantic research session on dream interpretation and meaning, but nothing Nova found was similar to her situation.

Nova had been dreaming of Time Lords, and the Doctor in particular, for as long as she could remember. She never dreamed of anything else. She had seen him grow up, attend the prestigious Time Lord Academy, take his new name…she had seen so much of his life. Logically, she knew that at over a thousand years old she couldn't have possibly watched all of his life, but Nova felt confident she had seen the major plot developments. Enough adventures for a whole series of books.

It had never really occurred to her until an assignment in Creative Writing how much other people might find her dreams intriguing and entertaining. So, encouraged by her teacher and her friends, who asked her every morning about the previous night's exploits, Nova diligently worked out a favorite adventure of her Doctor and submitted it to the major publishing companies. One year later, she had a deal with Penguin Publishing for another three novels.

Nova yawned, turned over, and felt her mind slip away from reality, into the world of the Doctor. At least half the time, she arrived in the console room of the TARDIS, considering that was where the Doctor spent most of his waking hours while his companions slept between adventures. This occasion was no different. But…

She frowned almost immediately in concern and confusion as her sapphire eyes roamed. The TARDIS's theme had not changed since the Ninth Doctor; nothing changing for years. Now, it was as if she was seeing the room through a red filter. Everything was glowing a crimson light. The air was charged with static, a smell of burning ozone and rot filled her nostrils. Nova covered her mouth and nose in disgust.

She spun in place, trying to find the Doctor, her mind raced with all the questions of what could possibly be going on, but could see no sign of him. A fifteen minute frantic run around the major places he should be resulted in nothing and no answers. In fact, there was a thin layer of dust in the corridors and on the door handles. It was as if no one had been anywhere but the control room in months.

Slowly, Nova became aware of a sound. It started so softly that she hadn't noticed, but it steadily increased in volume until she could hear nothing else. It was a mournful wail, almost a scream. Of pain, despair, pain, fear, _pain_. Her breaths began to get shorter as she realized the sound was in her mind. The soul of the TARDIS was screaming to any and all that would listen, even to a human.

Tears poured down her cheeks at she shared a hint of the ship's torment. She wished she could help the obviously injured TARDIS, compassion filling her mind and soul. Nova took a deep breath and tried to mentally reach toward the pain and misery she could feel. Pouring all her compassion and all the memories she could think of involving comfort, peace, and love down that humming line of torment.

It seemed that the screaming eased for a long moment and Nova smiled at being able to bring some assistance. The smile vanished when between one moment and the next it felt as if her entire body was wrenched to the side, as if she had been violently shoved. It was Nova's turn to voice a short scream of surprise and a little fear. Eyes stinging at the feel of brutal invisible winds whipping around her, she curled her arms around her chest and dropped into a kneeling position, or tried to. Her fear mounted as she realized that she couldn't move, not one finger. She couldn't even blink. Terror infused her as she tried to take a breath to no avail; she mentally began to scream in hysteria.

And then it was over. Like nothing had ever happened. She was still standing in the dusty corridor of the TARDIS, red light overshadowing everything. The TARDIS's voice, previously so loud as to be impossible to ignore, was now absent. The change in volume made her more aware of just how alone she was, only the normal soft groaning of the ship echoed around her.

Nova shook her head, and hastily walked toward the exit, navigating the maze of hallways with the ease of long practice. This dream was too much, too odd. It was time to wake up. She had gotten out of some of the dreams about the Time War by running far enough away that the world dissolved around her. She picked up her pace and ran around the crimson lit console, pulled open the doors, and froze.

There, in front of her with an air of superiority, was a man. That alone would not have made her pause, she had seen him numerous times in close proximity. No, what made her stop so abruptly were his honey eyes. It was the surprise that lay in them, the immediate focus on her face and body. It was the smirk.

"Now, how did you get in here?" the tenor question was filled with genuine curiosity.

_He saw her._

* * *

Pain is a powerful motivator. Even the threat of small discomforts can manipulate. Many life-altering decisions have been made while the mind is filled with the desperation caused by mental or physical agony. Some of those choices can be fixed. Some can never be taken back.

* * *

The Master was used to the TARDIS's cries. He had heard them for months after the paradox machine was turned on; the ship was in so much pain that it broadcast to where all species with even a slight telepathic ability was able to hear its torment. It was another way he could hurt the Doctor. The bond between Pilot and TARDIS was a close one. That wrinkle of pain in between his nemesis' eyebrows made the Master feel warm and giddy.

It was the momentary absence of the screaming that got the Master's attention. He was on his feet and running down the hall almost instantly. If something or someone had changed with the paradox machine, then his lovely plans for the Earth and war were in danger! He had to protect that machine. No one should have been able to enter! All those with keys were either on the planet below or imprisoned.

The Master threw open the TARDIS doors and felt his body freeze at the sight before him. A female, barely five foot four inches, stood staring at him with sapphire blue eyes in turn. Her hair was an unremarkable brown-red as it fell to her waist. Her face was easily forgettable. Her feet were bare, which made a sort of sense as the girl, perhaps in her mid-twenties if she were human, was wearing light blue sleeping attire.

However, the nightgown had a design of the Doctor's TARDIS embroidered on the chest. The stitches of different lengths meant she had done the needlework herself. She must be a former companion of the Doctor's to know the police box design well enough for the embroidery. But the Master had searched the TARDIS for stowaways as soon as he took possession of the ship and found none. The girl didn't have a key that he could see, which left the question… "Now, how did you get in here?"

He could tell that his question surprised her greatly from the way her eyes widened comically. "Ummm…I…ummm…you can _see_ me?" His eyebrows rose as he nodded with a smirk.

"This is new. No one's ever seen me before." She said it half to herself. "And, well…I'm dreaming. I went to sleep and went to the TARDIS like I usually do, but she was screaming this time. She hurt so much! I tried to help, and then it felt like what I would imagine a portkey would feel like. I got a bit scared, so I ran to the exit and then you were here." She explained in a rush of syllables.

The Master's eyebrows couldn't have gotten any higher if he tried. Her story was unusual, but he couldn't sense any deception. She wasn't lying; or more precisely she truly believed her story. He took a deep breath, trying to scent anything out of the ordinary and almost choked. Permeating the air was the sickly sweet honey smell of artron energy. It was as if he had stuck his nose in the heart of a TARDIS! "Who are you?" he demanded as he reached for his screwdriver.

"Nova."

He snorted. He couldn't sense a lie, but it was an obvious alias. Who would name their child 'new'? A shortened form of 'supernova' was possible, but it was too much of a coincidence. He grabbed her bicep and shook her slightly. "Who are you?!"

The girl's eyes widened in fear. "Nova! I'm Nova!" He narrowed his eyes. She obviously believed it. Perhaps a spy sent to infiltrate the _Valiant_? Perfect spies believed their own story.

He used the screwdriver to give her a scan. He froze at the results. The artron reading was off the scale! Nothing but a soul of a TARDIS or the Vortex itself would be as high. The girl, Nova, was soaking in radiation. Another scan proved that it wasn't killing her either, despite the fact that she was human.

The Master let go of her and just looked at her for several long moments as he tried to understand her. However, he came up blank. Nothing he could think of would explain this. Which left only two options: kill her or keep her. He wasn't going to kill a potential tool, so that left keeping her.

Nova watched the man as he watched her and felt a chill run up her spine as his smirk grew devious. She had never seen him before, but doubted that he was the Doctor. She had never seen the Doctor smile like that in any of his regenerations. No, this was someone else. "Who are you?" she asked timidly.

He didn't answer her for a moment, but eventually said "You will call me Master."

She swallowed convulsively in the beginnings of true fear as her mind cataloged all the facts she knew about the man. The Master, childhood friend of the Doctor. Nicknamed Koschei. Began to go crazy from a four-beat pattern of drums sounding endlessly through his mind. Was a scientist and tactician of the best caliber on Gallifrey. Elaborate plans to get the Doctor to submit and surrender to the Master's superiority, which never worked. Kills indiscriminately.

Whatever was happening to her, Nova was starting to really hope it was just an extremely vivid dream. Because really being at the Master's mercy was a terrifying thought.

* * *

Nova was now certain that whatever that portkey-ish feeling had been, it had literally yanked her into the world of her dreams. Her former dreams were now her reality. It had been two weeks since meeting the Master, and she remembered every bit of it. Dreams had time skips, only dreaming the important parts. Nova had been bored a lot, being locked in her room as she was.

The only people that Nova saw were the Master and the lady who brought her food. The Master almost never said anything. He came in to run another scan with his screwdriver or had some device to test her with. She had given up asking him questions on the fourth day with no answers. Francine was a quiet middle-aged woman who had only answered the question about her name. Nova wondered if the woman had been forbidden to speak, or if that was attributed to her mannerisms.

Nova had some books to read, a soft bed to sleep, and a desk to write. She finally gave up waiting for the dream to end on the second day. The books were finished on the fifth day. She began to write again on the sixth day. One more Doctor adventure down on paper. Then another. It's amazing how much one can get done when there isn't anything else to do!

Today, day fifteen, Nova just lay in bed. It had been increasingly difficult to force herself out of bed the last few days. There really wasn't a reason to get up, was there? She never went anywhere. No one ever came to talk to her. Clouds were the only thing that changed out the window. There were no more books to read. And what was the point in writing? No one was going to read it. There was no point.

She got up twice to pee in the adjoining small bathroom, but just went right back into bed. She nibbled at the food occasionally, but left most of it. She just wasn't that hungry. Mostly, she slept.

* * *

Francine left Nova's breakfast on the desk and left quietly, letting the girl sleep in. She knew that any comfort dreams could offer were to be cherished. She wished she could stay in her own dreams: her family all together and happy with no Master or Toclafane to worry about.

She wished she was allowed to speak with the girl, but there was never a time when she wasn't watched by the guards. Nova just looked so lost and alone. Francine's maternal instincts made her want to hold the child and reassure her.

She began to get concerned when Nova's breakfast was barely touched. The lunch was the same. And when she came with breakfast the next morning, she knew something was wrong. The girl hadn't touched her dinner either.

Francine couldn't chance asking what was wrong; the Master would have Tish beaten if she did. There really wasn't much she could do, despite her worry. She bit her lip as she tried to think of what could be possible without hurting her family.

At lunch, she gave the guard that always accompanied her a significant look, startling him. His eyes narrowed at her and followed her suspiciously. He knew that Francine was a pretty model servant, so his job was normally very boring. But this was new and he watched her like a hawk as she went in to the bedroom of the Master's newest prisoner. He watched as the mother put down the tray on the desk, but saw that unlike every other day, her body was to the side so he could see both trays. He watched as she lifted the breakfast tray and shifted her eyes to him. He saw her look at him for a moment, look at the tray in her hands, and look back at him. She did this several times.

Francine wanted to grin in satisfaction as the guard finally turned his full attention to the tray in her hands. She saw the moment he understood. When she walked out of the room, closing the door behind her, his gruff voice asked "How long?"

"Three days."

He nodded and spoke into his earpiece, reporting to his superior the aberration.

* * *

The Master was disgusted at the once again negative results of his latest tests on Nova. The only readings he could get from the girl were the artron radiation! Her body was too infused with the energy for any other test to give only static. Even her pulse had to be taken manually; the screwdriver was useless. In a fit of pique, he threw the utterly pointless device against the wall with a growl of anger.

One of the first things he had tried was telepathy. He was one of the best telepaths the Time Lords had, but when he tried to read her mind all he could see were glowing golden particles of light. It was like looking into the Time Vortex or the heart of a TARDIS without the danger. The only reason he knew she had been truthful before was because humans couldn't lie without telegraphing it in their body and tonality.

He had contemplated just shoving his way through her mind in a relentless cascade of willpower, but the energy stopped him. At best, it was simply infusing the child's being in a protective barrier. Then his invasion could make her catatonic or brain dead. Either case would make her useless to him. At worst, the energy could be corrosive to his thoughts, invading his own mind. The drums were enough!

He was interrupted with his thoughts of frustration as the guard captain came into his office. "Sir. I have a report that the girl has stopped eating."

The Master was up and moved down the hall determinedly. She wasn't allowed to die until he was good and finished with her!

He strode into Nova's bedroom and surveyed the arrangements. Food untouched on her desk. The lights were off until he had flicked them. The girl's form was huddled under the covers of her bed in such a way that he could only see her hair peeking out. His screwdriver once again gave the same readings as it always did and he knew from experience that trying once again to read her mind would be useless. Which left the tiresome and annoying method. "Why aren't you eating?!"

Nova opened her eyes, but she was facing the wall so couldn't see her captor. She didn't really need to though. Why bother? It wasn't like anything changed. "Not hungry." She finally answered, her voice quiet in the din. In the beginning, she had been scared to be at the Master's mercy. It had never occurred to her that a lack of stimulation could be torture too.

"Eat anyway!" The Master ordered the girl, but received no other response. This was infuriating! The problem was he had no leverage to keep her in line. She had shown up on the TARDIS. There was no record of any 'Nova' in the United Kingdom or Americas that fit her description, so no family to threaten her into compliance. He couldn't risk physically harming her until he figured out how the artron energy was contained. If it was contained at all. Opening the heart of a TARDIS was paramount to self-destruction, as was the Vortex. The Master had been called many things, but suicidal wasn't one of them.

When a minute passed without a response, the Master threw up his hands in exasperation, turned on his heel, and left the room. He was running out of options.

* * *

Nova drifted in and out of sleep. She wrote briefly whenever she wasn't sleeping, nibbling at the food, or staring at a wall. It was never much. Mostly she 'wrote' by staring at the notebook paper listlessly. She stopped keeping track of the days. There wasn't much point, was there? No, not much point at all.

She mostly dreamed. More adventures with the Doctor and his companions as they traveled the universe. These dreams were different than her usual ones though. They were hazy around the edges and most of the companions were out of focus. Even the Doctor was occasionally out of focus, like she was looking at him through smudged glass. Several times, all Nova could really get in detail was dialogue, and even then not much. Those dreams didn't last very long.

The only ones that she could see easily were the Doctor when he was in his pinstriped suit and converse, Martha Jones, Donna Noble, and Clara. Dear Clara, the poor girl. The Doctor never noticed her.

It had taken Nova years to finally put all the pieces together of who and what Clara was. She just kept showing up over and over again. Many times dying quite quickly after being in the Doctor's vicinity. She had saved his life so many times. Clara had pulled him out of the way of a speeding car just before he would have been killed. She had moved into the line of sight of a sniper, taking a bullet meant for him. She had yanked him back onto the roof of a building before he could accidentally go over the side, his attention on holding tightly to his companion who had already gone over the roof. Over and over she had saved his life. He never seemed to notice, attributing his survival to luck if he realized that he had been in danger at all.

Nova had been twenty-six when she dreamed about how Clara had jumped into the Doctor's timeline. Then everything made sense with the Impossible Girl. Ironically, that had been one of the first dreams in her new reality. Only the Doctor himself had been fuzzy. Everything else was crystal clear in bright clarity.

She wondered again what the new lack of focus could mean, but dismissed it. No real point either way, was there?

* * *

Another two days passed before the Master finally conceded. He was a master of many things, but he had finally run out of ideas.

He dragged a newly deaged Doctor to the girl's room and practically threw the other Time Lord in with a yell of "Fix her!" before slamming his hand on the locking mechanism.

He growled at the four guards on the door. "Don't let him out until she's eaten." The Master stomped away, furious at having been forced to let the Doctor at the girl. It was only because he didn't want to die. Rassilon only knew what could happen if she was injured in any way. That energy had to go somewhere, and the Master sure as the Void didn't want it to go into him. Let the Doctor get killed.

That thought brought a grin to his face as he went back to his office to deal with the pile of paperwork that came with ruling the world.

* * *

The Doctor let his eyes roam around the newest captive of his childhood friend. Through a door to his left he could see a restroom. A pile of clothes was by the entrance to the right, a chair beside the pile of dirty garments held a stack of folded, assumingly clean, clothes. A desk rested in front of the only window, a circular porthole around a foot in diameter, with a few writing utensils and stacks of paper haphazardly nestled on its surface. The twin bed lay pushed against the far wall, perpendicular to where he stood; the cream sheets visible under the pale yellow down comforter. A mound in the covers identified where the girl lay, but all he could see was a non-descript brown fluff of hair. By the smell, she had not bathed in at least three days.

The silence of the room was oppressive. It would be even more so to the girl. Humans were social creatures. They needed activity and conversations. They needed reasons to do things. If what the Master had told him were true, the child, barely into her twenties, had no contact with the outside world beyond two people, and neither were conversationalists.

He stepped to the bedside and said quietly, not wanting to startle her, "Hello there. I'm the Doctor." He watched as the covers, which she had bunched into her fists by her face, pulled down slightly until he could see dull blue eyes look back at him. There was recognition buried in that gaze which piqued his curiosity. "What's your name then?" he asked gently. For the moment, he erred on the side of caution and spoke like he would have to one of his children.

His hearts clenched at her answering tone. It was monotonous, plain, and slow in coming. "Nova." Despite the lack of physical pain, it was obvious how much the time in this bare Spartan room had damaged her.

"Nice to meet you, Nova." He pondered how this conversation could go for a few quiet minutes, not quite sure how to continue to engage her attention.

To his surprise, she spoke next. "Are you really the Doctor?" He smiled gently at her and nodded. "I don't suppose he will let you take me home." He winced slightly, which seemed to be enough of an answer for her. "I didn't think so." She said dully. He waited another minute, hoping she would keep talking. Silence had been her world for a long time. Now that there was an audience, he hoped she would fill the void. "Why are you here?"

"People are concerned that you aren't eating."

"You mean the Master is concerned about losing his potential asset before he's played with it." Nova said softly, bitterly.

The Doctor rubbed his neck, masking his surprise at her insightful answer. It was also the most life she had displayed since he walked in. "Weeeell…yeaaaah. He also wants to know about the artron radiation."

_That_ certainly gained her attention. A spark of life lit in her eyes, pulling her into a sitting position, leaning against the headboard to watch him. The comforter had fallen to her lap and his eyes were immediately captured by the hand stitched TARDIS on her nightgown; his own blue police box TARDIS. Brown orbs met blue as she spoke. "He never mentioned radiation…if it was killing me he would have said something sooner, if only to rub my face in it. The TARDIS has enough artron energy to fuel anything that he could possibly have better than any human battery." It was as if she were logically working through all the possibilities she could think of out loud. She knew about his TARDIS, knew what it looked like, and knew some about artron energy. He didn't recall ever seeing her before, though something about her felt familiar. "He hasn't done his usual things to get information either; neither telepathy nor torture. So the only reason he brought you in would be because those endless tests he keeps giving me are coming up empty." He blinked again at her insights into the Master's character. "That about right?"

The Doctor nodded carefully. "How do you know so much about him?"

Nova grimaced and shrugged at the expected question. After so long with no one to talk to, the opportunity the Doctor represented was like a balm. So much so that she knew as soon as he asked that she had said too much.

She had dreamed about the Doctor for as long as she could remember. She knew some of his language and more importantly, some of the laws of Gallifrey. She wished she had thought of that when she first spoke to the Master, deeply regretting her words to the psychopath. Those scant sentences could have condemned her to eternal confinement in the Citadel if the planet still existed. She knew things that only the Doctor's family should know. She knew things that should never leave the planet's surface. She knew things that even the Doctor kept hidden deep within the Medusa Cascade.

If the Doctor knew just how much she had seen of his life…she would never be able to even _attempt_ to go back home. Being the Doctor, he wouldn't kill her, but she was now intensely aware of fate's worse than death. Death was easy and quick. If the Master found out…Nova shivered in fear, her mind shying away from the thought. The insane Time Lord knew more ways of variations of torture than she could ever think of, and had no wish to list.

Instead, after a moment to think, she went with "He talks a lot."

He blinked at her, sensing the lie. There was much more to this than she was saying. So, falling back to his admittedly-rusty paternal instincts, he let the topic drop for the moment. "Can you eat?"

She shrugged again. "Not really hungry." Which he had expected. Given what he knew so far, the poor girl had gone into a mild depressive state. He had a few things he wanted to say to the Master when he saw him next.

Putting a small telepathic suggestion into his voice, he prodded her "Will you try?" He held out an banana with a tiny hopeful smile. The fruit should be gentle enough on her stomach.

Nova gave an exhausted sigh and nodded.

The Doctor couldn't help his triumphant grin. She wasn't too far gone yet.

* * *

**Tell me what you think!** _This is an idea I've been kicking around. I would love to hear your input!_

**_Special thanks to emptyvoices as my wonderful beta, and to LovelyAmberLight for her encouragement._**


	2. Chapter 2

**Dreams May Come True 02**

Nova looked up as the Doctor came into her room. It had been about three or four hours since she had seen him last, and that was guessing. Keeping track of time was virtually impossible in a room with no clock.

The Time Lord was grinning triumphantly. "Guess who gets to get out of her room today?" he asked happily.

She grinned enthusiastically and jumped off of the bed. "Where are we going?"

He took her hand in his and started to lead her through the maze of corridors. Of course compared to the TARDIS' hallways, the _Valiant_ was easy to navigate. "The Observation Deck. _Allons-y!_" He smiled at her giggle as the pair of them practically bounced along.

Nova mentally shook her head at his antics. She was used to his personality and mannerisms, but being included was new. She had seen him do all sorts of things in this incarnation. But now he was doing things _with_ her, instead of with his companions or by himself. It was odd and enjoyable. She liked it.

While his idiosyncrasies carried them along, Nova noticed that he didn't speak much, which made her nervous. The man talked _all the time_. He never shut up! So his silence was unnerving and the longer it lasted the more apprehensive she became. What was he thinking? Was he trying to do something to her mind? She knew that touch increased telepathic ability, but had thought he needed to specifically touch her temples and maintain eye contact. Was that wrong? Thoughts swirled in her mind one after another.

The Observation Deck was a large room with a floor to ceiling window as one wall. There was an oblong meeting table, the chairs pushed in. As they walked into the room, the nearest wall had a raised dais with a large throne-like chair. One area held a small one-person tent, a couple of dog bowls, and various electronic doodads.

Nova froze as she saw television screens on the wall closest to the throne that showed various places on Earth: camps, shipyards, and missile bays. The humans were wearing dirty, torn clothes. Several were obviously starving as she could see their ribs prominently. She reached out a hand as if to touch the screen before abruptly pulling back. Her blue eyes saw one middle-aged man fall as he had over exerted himself carrying an obviously heavy crate. She saw as a floating metal ball flew toward him and shot out a red beam of light. She gasped in horror as she realized the ball had killed him. "Oh god…" she said quietly to herself. She had seen the Master do horrible things many times, but this? This was a new version of hell. Usually the Master just killed people. It was quick and painless. This? This was torture.

A hand startled her, making her eyes shift to the Doctor. His brown orbs met her own, filled with compassion and pain. He didn't say anything; he didn't have to. He pulled her gently away from the screens to sit at the conference table, facing the giant window.

The pair of them were quiet for long moments as the Time Lord let her collect herself, offering silent support. Her mind was a tornado of thoughts and images. All the questions she truly wanted to ask, she couldn't. If she did, it would alert him to her knowledge. She had to pick and choose her questions carefully. Finally, she settled on "What are they?" she asked quietly.

The Doctor sighed and took a deep breath. "The Master calls them the Toclafane." He had figured out what they truly were months ago, and as the Master had promised, it broke his hearts. The Doctor wouldn't tell her though; she was having a hard enough time as it was, she didn't need to know yet. The information could push her into another depressive state. Which reminded him… "Here. You need to take this." He reached into a pocket, pulled out a small round light-blue pill and handed it to her.

As expected, the human just looked at the tablet for several seconds. He watched her eyes shift from the pill, up to his face, and then down again. "Why? What is it?" She made no move to take it.

"A low-dose anti-depressant. Like Prozac, but better." A guard came over with a glass of water before blending back into the escort she hadn't noticed until then. "You need to take care of yourself. Any longer the way you are and you'll go into a major depressive state. This will help your neurochemistry come back into balance within a few days." He extended his arm again and she reluctantly took the tablet. Nova knew there was no way she could refuse. Even if she did, the man was stubborn and would find another way to give it to her without her knowledge. Better to take it, knowing that she did, rather than constantly wonder when and where he would sneak it to her. As she swallowed, he continued. "Good. You'll have to take one with breakfast for about three days. After today, it will be on your food tray. I'll be monitoring your brain chemistry to make sure it's stabilizing and if the dosage needs changing."

He caught her eyes, his expression serious. "Nova, you need to eat. You can't keep starving yourself-"

She broke in. "I know." She had a response prepared if this particular topic came up. "The food tasted weird." Nova winced. She had started out strong, but had finished the small sentence softly, looking at her shoes. She was a horrible liar.

Amazingly though, he seemed to accept it. Or at least, he didn't call her out on the lie. "Fine. Make a list of your favorite dishes and I'll make sure that there is something you can eat. I know Americans have odd tastes." He thought it was because the rations she had been served were British! Nova blinked in amazement, but kept her eyes on her shoes with effort as she nodded immediately to his suggestion. "Now, there is one more thing we need to talk about."

Blue eyes met his own. "One of the conditions of your getting to leave your room is that you eat, take your medicine, and answer all questions truthfully." She froze, her heart in her throat as she blinked at him. "I know you've lied." He saw her fear and reached out a hand to reassure her. "It's alright. You have no reason to trust me. But it has to stop now. You _need_ to trust me." He huffed out a small breath. "Your life may depend on it."

She gulped and shook slightly. The Doctor was terrifying when he wanted to be. In some ways, he was scarier than the Master. The man sitting before her had locked away a family into endless torment not too long ago. That dream had been relatively recent, so was fresh in her mind. He had taken each of the four and given them _exactly_ what they wanted: eternity. The poor idiots had no idea what they were asking for…and he had been vindictive enough to give it to them. Before she had seen the TV monitors, she would have said that the Master had more mercy; he just killed people, quick and clean. The Master only wanted to hurt the Doctor. Everyone else was superfluous. The Doctor though…Nova shivered as one of her dreams from several years previous drifted across her mind. That Doctor was too horrible to think about; he was so far apart from being the Doctor he had given himself a different name, a name that she tried desperately never to think.

She wasn't the superstitious sort usually, but in this case the idea of 'speak of the devil' was too much to chance. That Scary Doctor was horrifying enough that even his minute probability of showing up was too large.

Nova shook herself physically and mentally out of those alarming thoughts, shoving the dreams away back into their temporary bookshelf. "Because of the artron radiation?" she timidly asked, anything to get her mind off of the Scary Doctor.

The Doctor was one of the best empaths in the universe, and being this close to Nova had him feeling everything she did. He felt her excitement at getting out of her room, her anguish when she saw the human killed, and now her absolute terror. After twenty-seven rels, she buried that fear deep within herself and she asked about the energy. He filed away her reactions to analyze later. "Partly. The radiation _is_ fading, but not as quickly as it should be. Artron radiation is deadly in large quantities." He felt her fear spike again and hurried to reassure her. "It's alright. You seem to be doing fine so far, but I want to keep it that way. So, I will be giving you medical tests to keep track of the energy levels and I _will_ find a way to leech it out of your system. It will just take time."

Nova snorted once in amusement at such a comment coming from a Time Lord.

"Do you think you can **trust me**?" The Doctor pushed out with his empathic ability, infusing the last two words with confidence and assurance. He grinned hugely at her hesitant nod. "Fantastic!" He pulled her to her feet and led her over to the window. He wanted her to focus on the now. In her mild to moderate depressive state, reminders of the atrocities being committed was the last thing she needed. "Check out this view!"

She laughed quietly at his antics, shaking her head in amusement, but obediently focused her attention onto the clouds rolling by. "It's beautiful."

"You can come here every day." He said enthusiastically. "And…" he reached into his extra-dimensional pocket and pulled out a bundle with a flourish.

Nova glanced at his eyes before taking the TARDIS-blue fabric-wrapped box. It almost looked like a sewing kit, but smaller than any she had seen. "Oh wow!" She gasped softly when she saw the half dozen brightly colored pieces of fabric and the bottom compartment was filled with ever color of embroidery floss she could possibly need or want. A top panel held different sizes of needles and pins. It was the needlepoint kit from heaven! She blinked up at him and gave him the biggest smile he had ever seen from the girl. "Thank you so much! I love it!"

Given the chance to be herself, with this man she had known all her life and felt so comfortable with, Nova momentarily forgot the horrors being committed below. Forgot the Master lurking in the ship. Forgot about how she had to be so careful on what she said. She forgot because of his kind gift and hugged him tightly.

He smiled over her head as he awkwardly returned her affectionate gesture.

* * *

Her first conversation with the Doctor made Nova realize several things.

Nova was many things: writer, mathematician, and daughter to name a few. One thing she definitely _wasn't_; she was not stupid. Of course, having said that, compared to the Master and the Doctor, she had the IQ of a carrot. Nova gave a great sigh at the depressing thought. Just how was she supposed to keep all of her knowledge to herself at all times?

Habits are difficult to break. She had a lifetime of habits that she had to try desperately to ignore. One of the biggest was her habit of speaking her thoughts out loud. In her dreams, no one could see or hear her and she had always spoken aloud her observations because there had never been a reason not to. Speaking helped her organize her own thoughts into coherent conclusions. Now though, just one wrong word getting to the Doctor's or the Master's ears would spell out trouble the likes of which she could not properly imagine.

Writing was another habit. She liked writing. She had been writing down her dreams for years before she ever thought to publish. As soon as the Doctor had left her room his first visit, she had jumped out of bed and rounded up all the pages upon pages filled with the Doctor's adventures. Then discovered a problem: no way to dispose of them. The best way to destroy them would be by burning, but she had no lighter. Tearing them into pieces was discarded as well because it would just alert the Time Lords that there was something on the pages that she didn't want people to see; which is enough of a reason to diligently put the pieces back together again. Nova had been frantic as she came up with and discarded a half dozen ideas on how to get rid of the words: the window didn't open, no way to start or contain a fire, no floorboards to even attempt to pry up, nothing sharp to tear the seams of her bedding, etc. Finally, she mentally threw up her hands in frustration. She gathered up all the pages into six even stacks and placed them carefully beside each other under her mattress lengthwise. Hopefully, they were arranged in such a way that even the maid who changed her sheets would never know they were there.

Nova also knew as long as the artron energy wasn't self-replicating, it should theoretically dissipate given enough time. As far as she knew, artron energy was only found on a TARDIS. So, there should be no reason for it to self-replicate inside her. Of course, it really shouldn't be inside her _at all_, so she could be really wrong. She hoped that all she had to do was wait for it to gradually disappear. As soon as the radiation was gone, there would be no reason for the Doctor and the Master to keep her around. That is, as long as she could keep her dream-obtained knowledge to herself.

So, Nova now had a clear goal for her immediate future: be unremarkable. If she could pull that off, then she could (hopefully) find a way home. If she got the attention of the Doctor or the Master in a bad way…they would never let her leave their sight. She wouldn't be surprised if they kept her on a leash. She just knew way too much. The artron energy was interesting, but it would go away. Her mind? Can't really get rid of that!

As soon as the pages had been taken care of, she looked around the room and blanched when she saw her nightgown. That patch of embroidery, her first project after learning the stitches, was obviously the Doctor's TARDIS. And both Time Lords had seen it. Before either of them asked about it, she had to come up with a believable lie; that had its own problems.

Time Lords had senses much greater than humans: sight, sound, and smell were all heightened. They would be able to tell if she was lying even if she was really good at the task, which she decidedly wasn't. She also knew that their senses were better, but never really could find out to what degree. Could they hear whispers? What about if the person whispering was across the room? Or in another room? Nova just didn't know. Given her habit of speaking her thoughts, and that her thoughts needed to be kept under wraps, her sudden lack of knowledge on this particular point made her heart clench with fear.

Another thing that she thought of was probably a copyright of the BBC show _Sherlock_, but if it worked it would save her. The mind palace. Known in the Harry Potter universe as Occlumency. In the ordinary world, it was called meditation. Basically, she was going to try to organize her thoughts and memories so that she could hide them in case the Doctor or the Master ever tried telepathy.

Thankfully, Nova already had a significant leg up in the department of organization. She was a mathematician. And math was _severely_ logical and organized. Step two came after step one. Step four came after step three. A plus B equals C. She _liked_ math. She was good at it. To learn math, she had to organize herself and her mind. She just had never done it on purpose like she had to do with meditation.

In short, more than half of her work had been done already without her ever realizing it.

It was a lengthy process taking a lot of her time, but what else did she have to do? Motivation was key and Nova wanted to go home. She didn't have much close family, but she wouldn't trade her parents for anything. She also hoped desperately that time moved more slowly in her dimension; less chance that her parents would notice she had gone anywhere at all.

The first thing she did was build up her house. She took her childhood home, along with the 2.5 acre yard, and replicated it as exactly as she could remember. Nova had briefly considered putting in landmines and tripwires in the yard, but had to discard the idea. The point was to be unremarkable. Having a mind palace at all was unusual enough. She could have no obvious defenses. Then she made the den into a memory library, storing all her non-Doctor experiences in books on shelves, organized by age and category. She put her favorite memories on display as pictures around the house, hoping to draw attention away from her primary goal.

After that came the Doctor memories, her dreams. She had to hide them, and hide them well. She thought long and hard on the best place for them. Once again, inspiration came from make-believe worlds. This time from _Indiana Jones_ and _The Librarian_. In her home, attached to the den was her mother's sewing room. Nova rearranged the outside of the house so that from the yard you couldn't tell there was a room at all. Next she took out her memories of reading Shakespeare, put them all together on a shelf by the entrance to the now-hidden sewing room. Behind the book of _A Midsummer Night's Dream_, she placed a button that seamlessly blended in to the top of the bookshelf. The button made the entire shelf rotate 180 degrees, depositing the person into the sewing room. The other side of the bookshelf looked identical on both sides. Nova made sure of that.

Her mother also had a computer in her sewing room. Nova made that a decoy, providing another reason why the room was hidden, putting intimate non-Doctor memories on it: the night she lost her virginity, when she accidentally walked in on her parents having sex, etc. She hoped that anyone looking at that computer would see the first memory and be too embarrassed to look further. But just in case, there were no dreams on that computer.

No, her dreams were kept in the laundry room that was attached to her mother's sewing room. In the one place she could think of that no one would check: behind the dryer. In every dryer she had ever seen, there was a compartment about six inches high, the width of the machine, at around knee height. But it was only accessible from the _back_. You would have to disconnect all the cords and pull out the dryer, to get to the space. It was perfect. She put all her dreams into spiral bound notebooks, one for each dream, and gently laid them to rest in that spot. As one last added measure, she put a piece of metal over the hole and made it blend into the rest of the back. The piece would pop open by selecting the 'delicate' cycle; a cycle she never used.

She backed out of the room, and noticed that if you knew what you were looking for, it was obvious that the bookshelf entrance was sitting on a circle of rotating floor. Crap, that was a close one! Nova breathed a sigh of relief that she had caught the error and hurried to fix it. It didn't really matter in the sewing room, but she made the floor of the den into a pattern of concentric circles and lines. It made the circle the shelf sat upon _much_ harder to see. She only could find it because she knew it was there.

Nova surveyed her mind palace with some satisfaction. It had taken her almost two weeks to build and secure. It was also ironic that meditation let her skip out on a lot of sleep, giving her more time to build. It was well worth the effort.

Now she just had to keep her frickin' mouth shut!

* * *

Nova's days had a routine to them. The Doctor would bring her breakfast, though as promised the anti-depressant was only present for three days, and check her artron energy levels. The pair would then move to the Observation Deck where she tried desperately to ignore the screens near the throne, and just focus on the fluffy clouds passing by as she stitched. The Doctor would stay with her for several hours, asking her various things about her childhood, her family, and how she arrived on the _Valiant._ She answered all of them honestly and if the answers to her previous life were much more detailed than anything else, he never commented. The man was sneaky too! He used the embroidery as a tool; get her attention on something else so her answers would be more free-flowing and honest. Several times she had caught herself right before she would have given him information she obtained from her dreams.

The Doctor seemed to realize that she was very self-conscious about people looking at her. He asked her about it the second day. "Why don't you look me in the eyes?"

She winced, her needle freezing mid-pull, and hesitantly explained. "I was bullied in school as a kid. I often stared into space because I was so bored with the curriculum. The other kids thought I was staring at them and would…well, they made sure that I wasn't looking at them. I learned that walls and shoes were safer to stare at." She finished pulling through the stitch and missed his brown eyes darkening momentarily in anger.

After that little tidbit of her past, the Doctor began to bring things to do with his own hands. Usually odds and ends of electronic devices that he fiddled with, but it kept his eyes on his work instead of her. Nova greatly appreciated the gesture.

Lunch would be served at the conference table, but mid-afternoon saw her back in her room. Dinner came with a new medication: a yellow square about a centimeter across. Nova always took it, reminding herself to ask the Doctor what it was she was taking in the morning, but kept forgetting. Unless something was on a note, or she did it right away, she had a bad habit of forgetting. One day she put a reminder onto a slip of paper and put it in her pocket, but she never put her hands in her pockets when she was with the Doctor and thus forgot again.

One thing that never came up in their conversations was the Master. The man had practically disappeared from her world. She never saw him anymore. At night when she lay in bed trying to sleep once again, it would occur to her that she hadn't seen the tyrant that day either and she would wonder why. The more days went by, the less she thought of the Doctor's childhood friend, and the more comfortable she became in her new life.

However, all things must come to an end eventually.

* * *

Nova had officially lost track of the days, weeks, and possible months that had passed since she came to the _Valiant_. She idly wondered if this how it would be trying to keep track of time in the TARDIS, but after a moment discounted the thought as ridiculous because the ship would always know how much time had gone by. Wouldn't it?

This particular day started as any other. Get up, shower, and breakfast. For some reason, the Doctor didn't show up as soon as she had finished eating. Maybe she had just eaten fast today. Disregarding the time element, Nova began to design a new needlepoint project to pass the time waiting for the man to show up. This one would be her largest yet at a full 8.5 by 11 inch design. A dragon curled around that of a Celtic knotwork cross.

As she sketched, Nova absently began to sing softly to herself, the music playing throughout her mind. "You know the bed feels warmer sleepin' here alone. You know I dream in color and do the things I want." The rhythm of the song and mental tempo helped relieve her fear for the Doctor. The longer she sang the louder and more energetic her voice became, blocking the outside world. "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger. Stand a little taller; doesn't mean I'm lonely when I'm alone. What doesn't kill you makes a fighter, footsteps even lighter. Doesn't mean I'm over 'cause you're gone. What doesn't kill you makes—"

She was abruptly shaken from her thoughts and singing by a smooth tenor cutting in. "How do you know that song? It won't come out for another four years." Blue eyes shot up as her chest tightened in terror. The Doctor's expression she could only describe as utterly serious. This was the expression the Doctor had worn when he gave that family an eternity of torture.

* * *

_Tell me what you think!_**Special thanks to my beta emptyvoices, and to LovelyAmberLight for her encouragement.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Dreams May Come True 03**

**Three weeks ago…**

The Master stared at the screen, which showed his newest acquisition's accommodations. He watched as the girl spun around the room singing a song she should have never heard, let alone know well enough to sing confidently. The girl never knew that he had installed cameras while she slept that first night. Her answer of "I was dreaming of the TARDIS" to his question was leading. It awakened memories of his Academy days. One subject in particular that made his blood run cold. If what he suspected of the girl was true, he would need to take special precautions.

He wanted to rule the universe, not destroy it.

**Twenty days ago…**

While the Doctor was informing the girl of the new arrangement, the Master stole into her room and grabbed the stacks of papers she had hidden under her mattress. He had missed it the first time, but after reviewing the tapes trying to confirm or deny his suspicions, he noticed.

Now, the first stack of pages was in his hand and he read them carefully.

The Master cursed silently, rubbing his head to try and clear the drums from his mind so he could think clearly for once. His suspicions were becoming more and more acute with each stack. He had to do something so the child didn't destroy everything he was trying to build! Once upon a century, he had been one of the best scientists on Gallifrey. Surely he could come up with _something_!?

Cursing vehemently and fluently in half a dozen languages, he stomped to the stolen TARDIS and began to research. If he had to choose between the two, the paradox machine would have to wait. He could always turn it back on later.

**Eighteen days ago…**

He grinned triumphantly as he held up the little yellow pill. Fortunately, he had not needed to shut off the paradox machine in order to create this little wonder. That would have set his plans back ten months! He'd be right back to where he was! Not to mention that he would no longer have the element of surprise over the Doctor. Turning the machine back on after shutting it down would be difficult indeed.

But, the Master didn't have to worry about that. The TARDIS' medbay had all the equipment he needed to deal with the human's condition. All he had to decide was if he wanted to increase or decrease her potential. Increasing it was potentially very volatile, but if he could control the degree, and how much the Doctor was able to figure out, it would be worth it.

Especially if the human started to write again. The Master's smile turned predatory at such a thought.

He'd start her out at one a day; with dinner to keep it from the Doctor's notice. The Master wanted it well into her system before his rival could interfere. The oblivious human would assume it was from the other Time Lord, just as the neurochemical stabilizer had been.

He would keep his eyes on the girl, making sure she took the pill. One missed dose would be enough to destabilize the hormones.

**Seventeen days ago…**

He stared at the TARDIS monitor. This should be impossible! The little _human_ should _not_ have this in her genome! The results _must_ be wrong!

**Sixteen days ago…**

The Master shook his head as the readings were again coming out with the exact same results for the seventh time in a row.

And with the rate of spread, assuming the _infection_ had begun the night she appeared, the only conclusion he could come up with is that she started with one quarter naturally occurring. The artron radiation only expanded her DNA minutely; one point three two percent so far. By the time the energy dissipated from her system to a more stable level, her genome would have been altered only twelve point nine six eight percent.

Such a number would be barely noticeable to the child, but if it hit the right parts of her genetics, helped along by his medication he made sure she took, the possibilities were exciting. Oh, the things he would be able to do with her!

Perhaps the best bit was that the Doctor had no idea what the girl _really _was.

**Fourteen days ago…**

Once more checking that the advanced perception filter was firmly in place around the piece of jewelry, the Master secured it onto the little human's left ankle. There. Now she wouldn't be going anywhere without him!

The Master laughed quietly to himself as he slipped out of the girl's room. The dumb ape would never be the wiser.

**xxxxxxxxxxxx**

Nova was such an odd female. Little bits of her personality didn't fit with the picture she consciously showed him. She was reasonably intelligent for a human, but barely ever expressed it. The Doctor supposed it had something to do with her being bullied as a child, which even now made his hands clench in anger. Occasionally, he would mention something that would get her started and the girl would talk eagerly, and expressively, for several long minutes. Her longest so far was one hour forty-seven minutes filled with loud words and waving hands. It was vastly amusing that she had gone on so long about the differences and similarities between the Greek and Norse pantheon. She had made some very interesting points too! The child was definitely not a stupid ape.

But for the most part, she was exceedingly quiet. Not speaking unless spoken to, she listened to him as she calmly sewed.

When eating, it was a picture that made his hearts clench in anger and compassion at the implications. She always ate about twice as fast as the usual human and if he was sitting too close, she would curl her left arm around the serving ware as if to prevent him from snatching it away. It wasn't that she was rude; she never spoke with her mouth full and all activities were moved aside when lunch arrived. She just ate very quickly. He was also positive that she had no idea what she was doing. He wondered just how long food had been denied to her that she now unconsciously expected it to be forbidden or retracted.

Her claims of being "not hungry" also made a little more sense. The child probably grew up being hungry so regularly that she didn't recognize the signals as being anything other than what was normal; normal to her. It was unhealthy. He would have to work on ways to help reeducate her brain into more normal patterns.

She never lied to him again, per se. She omitted the truth quite often however. Or chose to say "I'm not comfortable talking about that." Which he readily accepted, since that response was usually in reference to a question about her childhood or parents. Everyone deserved to keep a few secrets and the Doctor thought that her response was more along the lines of homesickness than anything else but hoped that she would choose to share with him freely, eventually.

He had also noticed that if left alone for too long, Nova would talk to herself softly or she would start to quietly sing under her breath. It was so soft that a human would have been unable to hear her. A psychologist would say she had a pathological fear of silence or some such nonsense. The Doctor expected that it was a defense mechanism. The girl was just lonely, and had been lonely for a very, very long time.

Humans needed socialization. Nova spoke to herself out of habit, yes. He suspected it started because she didn't have anyone who would listen to her. And as much as their talks every day were to get information about why the Master was so interested in her, he listened to her and noticed what she liked and disliked.

The sewing kit was just a start. He had never seen a companion use a gift so often or with such relish! He also took note of which foods she ate entirely and which were left untouched. That food in particular was never seen again, and her apparent favorites had a habit of showing up. She still ate quickly and guarded her food, but now the plates were returned completely clean regardless of duration, which made the Doctor smile to himself in satisfaction. Nova was now reaching a reasonably healthy weight for her age and height. Her neurochemical condition had been stabilized for over two weeks, breaking the hold of depression.

As he approached her quarters once again, he caught an ear of her melodic singing. She wasn't the best he had ever heard, but was very decent for someone that had never been trained. He suspected she sang in the shower just for the acoustics. Some days she sang lullabies, sometimes it was fables set to music, and occasionally he heard show tunes. It was amusing that at least half the time he didn't recognize the lyrics, but music hadn't been a strong point to study in the Academy. This one though…the Doctor paused outside of her door as he carefully listened and felt a chill go down his spine.

Some songs lasted and what she sang this morning was a very well-known tune that made several comebacks in later centuries. It was one of the few twenty-first century tunes that carried over in popularity to the twenty-second century. The beat and subject matter was so infectious and relatable that it outlasted most of its competition. Only a couple of Christina Perri's songs had it beat, with "Happy" at the top.

The problem? The song "Stronger" came out in 2011.

It was 2007.

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

"How do you know that song? It won't come out for another four years."

Nova knew that she looked like a deer caught in headlights. That look on his face! Fear shot down her spine at that face, making her say the first thing that came to mind. It also happened to be true. "YouTube?" she practically squeaked.

His eyebrow quirked up as he paused for a second, his eyes not leaving her face. "An early release?"

She seized on the plausible explanation and nodded quickly. Of all the things she had thought would give her away! Something that had nothing to do with the Doctor hadn't occurred to her as being dangerous! "Songs do that sometimes, to get a reaction from the public. I was picked as part of a panel group to hear it." She added softly, her mind racing as she attempted to persuade him to believe her. If he found out…she would never go home.

"I see." The Doctor just kept looking at her, sizing her up. A moment of silence when she could have heard a pin drop. "Who wrote it?" If she was indeed part of a research group, the songwriter name would be made apparent and therefore disclosed.

The question came out of nowhere. There was no way Nova could answer it either. She paid attention to the songs or the movies. She didn't know the names of most famous people; singers and actors. It just wasn't important to her. She enjoyed the fantasy world the entertainers created. Reality was a hindrance.

Her fear hit terror and her world of logic and reason seemed to fade. She had to get away from him! If he found out he would never let her go! She had to get away! Every instinct simultaneously signaled for fight or flight, and Nova chose flight. She bolted for the still open door when he had crossed halfway through the room.

She had no idea just how quickly Time Lords could move. She was closer to the door than he and had surprise on her side, but she still felt him catch her wrist. If you knew how, there was no way someone could hold you that would prevent escape. Her father had made her practice all the techniques for getting out of handholds for years when she was a teenager. The Doctor had only caught her with one hand, a simple twist of her wrist with almost forgotten muscle memory and he couldn't hold her. His grip was great enough that she knew her wrist would be bruised, but she was still able to run.

The guard on her room was startled in his inaction. She had never even _tried_ to run before! A simple twirl of her torso got her passed him and down the hall in less than a blink.

An alarm began to sound throughout the ship, followed by an announcement with her general description and a warning to capture her alive. Her mind barely even registered the information as she ran.

It was only as she reached a stairway, with no real memory of getting there, that her mind slowed down enough to begin working properly again. Her mathematical mind switched slowly into gear as she had to choose to go up or down the stairs. Nova had no experience with ships of any type other than a small fishing boat. Who knew where the escape boats would be? Drawing on the few chase scenes she had seen in movies, she half-remembered that most of those people had the tendency to run upwards. So, Nova went down. Gravity was also on her side as she raced down the steps into the depths of the _Valiant_.

**xxxxxxxxxxx**

The Master was furious. He had been watching the video feed of the girl's room when the event occurred. He knew she ran out of fear; apes had a tendency to do that when cornered. It was the Doctor's fault!

Killing the guard for her room helped keep the rage at bay as the drums pounded through his skull, driving him on. The Doctor's screams as he once again was visibly aged also helped quench the Master's anger. He locked the Doctor up to his tent by a thick chain for good measure.

He flicked out his laser screwdriver and began to scan for the anklet. "Where are you, my little time sensitive?" he practically sang as he began to stalk his missing human. He was so focused on following the signal that he missed the Doctor's eyes widen in realization.

**xxxxxxxxxxx**

Nova had run until she ran out of stairs. Her heart was going a mile a minute from the exercise, but her mind had begun to calm down. The terror that had gripped her starting to fade enough to think at least halfway clearly. She idly pondered going back up a level or two in order to throw them off her track, but discarded it in favor of just going forward.

The last level seemed to be the bowels of the ship, literally. Pipes and steam were everywhere she looked. Lots of places to hide! Deliberately, she passed by many good hiding places and several doors as being too obvious. Randomly, she opened a door and went through as quietly as she could, shutting it behind her with barely a squeak.

Her adrenaline picked up as her ears picked up harsh breathing. It was close! She plastered herself against the wall between two giant round drums and tried to look around for a better spot to hide. People never looked up! Was there a place she could hoist herself above the hall?

It was as she was looking all around that the voice, a nice deep tenor, spoke. "I know you're there. You might as well come out." That was a voice she hadn't heard in a long time, even before she had been portkeyed to this world. It seemed so much better in person; a shiver ran down her spine, but it wasn't from fear.

She peeked around the corner and her blue eyes lit upon the chained form of Jack Harkness. He was on his feet, hands manacled up and apart above his head. It was obvious from the blood and bruises that he was being tortured on a regular basis, most probably from the Master's ministrations or at least on his orders.

There was something that nagged at her though. His hair was a shade lighter than she remembered it being. Not by much, but a little. It was odd. Maybe it was the lighting? Or that he hadn't seen the sun in a while? Perhaps he was just dirty? She pushed the observation to the side to focus on the present.

In spite of everything, he smiled at her. That devilish grin she remembered very well. "Hi. Captain Jack Harkness." The depth of innuendo he put into those four words was amazing.

"Nova." She gave him a small hesitant smile. "I've never heard someone flirt while introducing themselves before."

His grin widened and his eyes took on a sparkle of amusement. "I do what I can." He paused while he looked her over. "The alarm for you?"

She nodded. A thought hit her like lightning and she began to search for keys to free him. "I got scared and ran. Who knows what the Master will do to me now." A decidedly unpleasant shiver went down her spine at that thought. The keys were surprisingly easy to find. They were directly across from Jack at eye level. She supposed it was meant as a taunt; freedom so close and so far away. "You need to get out of here."

"_We_ need to get out of here." He corrected as she tried to stand on her tiptoes to reach the lock with the keys, but was still too short to reach. She cursed softly under her breath and practically climbed up Jack's torso to achieve the necessary height. "Be careful!" he said, wincing at her choice of handholds but made no other complaint.

Nova finally heard the 'click' of the lock releasing and startled into falling on her butt when Harkness twisted his wrist to catch the keys before they fell. Another second had the key turning in the other lock, freeing him completely. "Come on, we need to go." For the second time that day, her wrist was caught in a one-hand hold.

She used almost forgotten jujitsu once again to scamper across the room, toward the door she came in. She hurriedly spoke to him, trying to get him to understand. "You need to go help Martha!" Just a week ago she had dreamed the beginning of this whole endeavor; seen when the Doctor and his companion had been split apart by the Master's machinations. "They are looking for me anyway. You should have enough time to escape if you are careful."

A hard look entered his eyes. "How do you know Martha?"

"We don't have time for this!" she hissed at him.

"How do I know this isn't a trap?"

"You don't. Now run!" She whirled away from him, conversation done. She spared a moment to silently wish him luck as she again began to run. This time, toward the staircase, and the echoing sounds of pursuit.

She knew from previous years that Jack was a companion, back when Rose was still around. And if he knew the Doctor, chances were he knew Martha was also a companion and would want to help. His unkillable status may prevent Martha's own demise, if he could reach her in time. Nova had dreamed Martha's death only a couple of days ago, killed as she traveled through Tokyo. The city burned with the Master's _thoroughness_, the screams echoing through Nova's memory. It was one of the few dreams that where running did not permit her to escape its hold. She had just ended up running with Martha, instead of away.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a hand wrapping itself around her neck. It began to squeeze slowly as blue eyes met honey. "Hello, my little pet." The Master's feral seemingly-childish grin made her blood run cold.

* * *

_Any suggestions on where you want this to go? _

**Thanks to emptyvoices for being the best beta ever!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Dreams May Come True Finale**

It had always been there. She almost couldn't remember a time when it hadn't been there. Now that she was thinking about it, there had been so much going on at the time, so much her mind had to think about then trying to prepare for what was sure to come, that it had crept in.

It was only now; now that it wasn't there anymore that she really noticed it had been there at all. A constant ache in the back of her mind, that place where sometimes she felt things that she knew weren't her own. That ache was gone.

Nova blinked several times as her analytic mind ran through possibilities, her blue eyes staring blankly at her bedroom door. It wasn't locked anymore. She knew better than to run. Over a month at the Master's mercy, as his "pet", had taught her much about her new role in this world. She knew she had a connection to the Doctor's TARDIS. But up until now, it had never occurred to her that the link between them could be accessed while conscious. The ache though…perhaps she had been feeling the TARDIS' agony all this time without knowing. And now something had taken that pain away.

The paradox machine? Maybe it had been broken?

But, if the machine was off, then why was she still here? Wouldn't she have been taken back to her own universe, since she had arrived during the paradox itself?

Fear clenched her heart. A familiar feeling.

She wanted to go home. Now. She wanted to be held in her mother's arms again. She wanted to hear her father's booming laughter just one more time. The thought of being at the Master's tender mercies another day overcame her fear of the man catching her leaving without permission and her feet moved of their own volition, taking her out of the room. She focused on that feeling in her mind, that sudden lack of a pain, trying to find her way to the as-yet still-hidden TARDIS. Her eyes were unseeing as her feet carried her along deserted corridors.

She barely saw the people passing her by, running and shouting with guns at the ready. Mostly she just registered their presence to get out of their way before continuing on her own. No one really seemed to pay much attention to her but that was alright. She wasn't paying attention to them either.

So much focus on that little piece of her mind that had suddenly decided to stop hurting; that she felt surprise at suddenly finding herself in a very familiar console room, no longer lit with the previous red light. It had been months since she had appeared in this very ship and a new life had greeted her. Months perhaps, but she couldn't forget this place if she tried. It was burned into her mind: the pathways, hallways, rooms, and hiding places. She had been traversing its interior all of her life, safe in her dreams that had somehow become reality.

Nova drifted toward the console and placed a trembling hand on its surface. She closed her blue eyes, drew up every good memory of her family and shoved them toward that link in her mind. And she begged. "Please. _Please._ Send me back. Take me home. I know you can. Please. _Take me home!_"

A feeling not her own; sympathy flooded her mind. She heard the rotor begin to move and grind, but the platform did not shake. More emotions came: compassion and acquiescence.

Once again, a sensation somewhat like she always imagined a portkey would feel like caught her in a windless vortex, whipping her body and yanking it sideways. Nova was paralyzed as it occurred; however when the first time inspired intense fear, this time she just accepted. _Anywhere_ was better than here…she just wanted to go _home_. She wanted her parents to hold her tightly; one on each side as they kissed her forehead gently in unison as they had always done and they would laugh again about the seemingly unintended timing.

Almost as soon as the pulling started, it stopped.

She hadn't even realized she closed her eyes until she had to open them, hoping with all of her being that she would be in her house, in her bedroom from which she had disappeared all those months ago. Before the needles and the screams. Before the experimentation. Before the torture. Before the _Master_. Blue eyes blinked clear the fog of unshed tears and her heart jumped at the sight before her.

Her bed lay just in front of her, her hands laying innocently on the comforter. "Thank you." She murmured as she ran out of the room, yelling to her parents at the top of her lungs.

**Several weeks later…**

She was a little slim for her height with dark hair and pale eyes. A yellow sundress with little pink flower buds went down to just below her knees. Tan sandals cradled her feet. In all, she was rather unremarkable in her appearance. Which was to be expected for a pro-bono case file.

Apparently the five foot four inch tall twenty-six year old was very good at running off her psychologists and psychiatrists. Leading her finally to his own office, since no one else would have her. The state appointed cases were usually either really interesting or incredibly dull. He wondered which category this patient would fall into.

He held out his hand to invite her into his office. "Good morning, Miss Morganson. It's a pleasure to meet you." His voice was a professionally pleasant tenor.

She waited for him to close the door, pointedly looking around the large space filled with books, before answering. "Dr. Lector." She faced him and stared him down. Or tried to. More impressive people than she had attempted the same and failed. "Let me be blunt, sir." Her accent was obvious: South. Missouri maybe. "I am here because I have to be. Of the twelve psychologists and psychiatrists that I have seen, none have been any help whatsoever and I highly doubt you will be any different." Her tone was calm and even, though firm.

He nodded slightly. "Thank you for your honesty. Though perhaps before you pass judgment on a stranger we should talk. To be sure that I cannot help you." He persuaded gently.

She gave a sigh but acquiesced as she sat in the chair opposite him. "It's nothing against you, Dr. Lector. Given the references I received for your practice, I am certain you are the best in your field. However, my…situation is just so…abnormal that the training you received for your chosen profession is inadequate for this task. No one does."

He made a sound that could be interpreted as either understanding or simple acknowledgement that she spoke. "Please explain and then I will decide if I think I can help you." The sigh he got as a response let him know how many times she had heard the same phrase; he had to contain a smile. She was silent so long he wondered if she would spend the rest of the hour in silence, but he knew he was infinitely more patient than the woman could ever hope to achieve.

She got to her feet after a few minutes and began to roam around the room, avoiding eye contact. Nervous energy. Finally, she began to speak. "Let's go with a hypothetical situation. The real one is even stranger, but this will give you a general idea." A hand lifted to hold onto the window frame as she gazed out to the street beyond. Pale eyes found his as she settled back to lean against the wall. "What conclusions are you to draw, as a rational and sane individual, if something you took for granted suddenly changed?" She looked to the ceiling as she came up with an example for him. "Marshmallows are white and fluffy. All of your memories of marshmallows and they have the exact same shape and color: white, cylindrical, and squishy. But one day, you get out your bag of marshmallows to put in your hot chocolate and realize that the marshmallow you pull out has a face on it." Her eyes were steady as she watched him, analyzing his body language and facial expression. He knew she would see nothing. He had plenty of practice being neutral. "You look in the bag and find all the marshmallows have faces. You look on the internet and it says that marshmallows have _always_ had faces. You talk to your friends and family and _they_ all say that marshmallows have always had faces.

"It's not like this detail of reality effects you in a monumental way. In most aspects, the fact that suddenly marshmallows have faces is completely irrelevant. You still put them in your hot chocolate and eat them. They still are a favorite campfire treat. But your memories of marshmallows of how they should look do not match what you see now. So, what is a sane individual to think?" Her eyebrow quirked at him, waiting for his answer.

"That is an interesting notion." He gestured with a hand in her direction. "What do you think?"

She gave him a small glare but answered anyway. "One: somehow you just never noticed that marshmallows had faces. Unlikely, but possible." He nodded as she held up two fingers to begin a count. "Two: you know someone with absolutely no sense of humor and it's a prank gone too far." Another finger. "Three: it's a dream. Either you are dreaming now that marshmallows have faces, or you had a vivid dream that they didn't." She gestured widely. "Four: you are delusional or hallucinating." He was a little impressed with her reasoning. It was very rational. Most humans are anything but. "Five: its real."

"All very cogent possibilities. It could also be that your mind is trying to get your attention that something about the world around you is wrong. With those in mind, what is your conclusion?"

She blew out a breath in a short burst. "Dreams make sense while you are having them. This doesn't. I don't know anyone with the resources to pull off a joke on this scale. If I'm delusional or hallucinating, there isn't much I can do about it but wait for whatever drugs they are giving me to take effect and pull me out. And I would like to think that I am way more observant than most people given my Attention Deficit Disorder. Which leaves reality." She moved back to the chair across from him.

"Quantum physics hypothesizes that there are infinitely many dimensions and universes, each slightly different from the previous. Assuming this is reality, I somehow crossed from one dimension to another without noticing, leaving me in this situation. Since I don't know how I came to be in this new dimension, the chances of going back to the original are almost non-existent." She was very matter-of-fact. "Then the question becomes: what to do now? Accept and move on? Try to go back? Change the dimension I'm currently in to what I know?" He was becoming more certain that she was quite sane, despite the childish example of marshmallows with faces, though he could easily see the misdiagnosis.

He made an acknowledging noise again in his throat as she stopped talking. "Changing the world around you is fundamental to existing. You will effect anything you come in contact with, as well as the things that interact with those you effect. Anyone suggesting dimensional travel will assume you speak in terms of science fiction, thus returning to your original world impossible. Especially since physics is not your field of study. I would suggest that you learn to live with your new surroundings, despite whatever differences may seem to alarm you, and make the most out of an odd situation." He spread his hands in conclusively.

She tucked a strand of hair behind an ear. "I had come to the same reasoning. But by that time, I had asked too many of the wrong questions. I was assigned for mandatory counseling."

"Ah. I see." He noticed their time and rose to his feet. "In that case, may I suggest that a friendly non-judgmental ear you may speak to freely would be an asset?"

She tilted her head to the side to such a suggestion and slowly nodded. "Yeah. It would."

He smiled. "Then I will see you next week at the same time." This patient would definitely be interesting.

She gave him a sweet, sad smile as she turned to leave. He saw her wince as her eyes moved past one of the magazines in his waiting area. It was one of the more popular publications that he subscribed to for his patients. "Is there a problem, Ms. Morganson?"

She glanced up at him before looking away, telling him that whatever she said next would be a lie. "Nothing. It doesn't matter. Not anymore."

He watched Nova Morganson walk away and pondered how the latest _Doctor Who_ magazine could make her despondent. Something to discuss next session.

* * *

_Apparently, I can't write torture scenes at all...so we skip it. I hope you enjoy!_


End file.
